The Patient in Ward 4
by Suikorin
Summary: An incident between Tatsumi and Tsuzuki. What if they've met before either of them became shinigami and after one of them did become a shinigami? AU and OCC warning.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Story of the times between Tatsumi and Tsuzuki. What if a young Tatsumi met asylum committed Tsuzuki? A little AU and a slight change on the manner Tsuzuki died, and results of my recent obsession with T+T. Standard disclaimer apply.

Some basic definitions that regular people can just skip over.

nii-san: big brother

oji-san: uncle

sensei: doctor (in this context)

hahawe: Mother (formal)

chichi-ue: Father (formal)

The Patient in Ward 4 - Part I

Circa 1926

The air was stagnant, choked with astringents, disinfectants, death and insanity. There were panicked screams, cries of pain, and mindless laughter echoing down the sterile white hallways. Nurses and doctors, in angelic white, far too used to the disturbed dredges and misery of humanity, pushed around their rattling cart full of needles, stethoscopes and white pills, some hummed even as they calmly tranquilized a flailing patient or even attempted bloodletting in some others. If a patient made too much noise, there were medications that made them quiet, permanently.

Seiichirou's eyes were wide, taking in the sights and sounds as he was lead by his father's strong hands. The screaming and blood was slightly disturbing to his mind, but he was far too young to interpret the meaning behind blood and seen too much of his Father's works to be outright frightened.

Father was a surgeon, someone who put people's broken parts back together. Sometimes, it took sawing, or it took sewing. Sometimes, it took tears and terror. Whatever it was, Father always did what he thought was the best for his patients and saves them from the brinks of death.

It was that relentless drive to do what is right that made mother fall in love with father. Mother had a pierced lung as a result of an accident. The village healer said that she was to die within days. Father, a passing doctor at the time, managed to nurse her back to health. Like a valiant knight, father saved her. Then, before anyone from either side of the family could stop them, they eloped and married six years ago. Seiichirou was born only months later.

Seiichirou did not know how he came to know about this, other than he could sometime see and hear things in the shadows that others could not. His young mind, still too unformed, absorbed facts and details, never questioned the intent.

"As you can see, Tatsumi-sensei, we have over a hundred staff members and over three hundred beds," said nurse Rei proudly, taking the boy's attention back to the hospital. Nurse Rei was a squat looking young lady, black hair, red nails and red lips. She smelled heavily of perfume and antiseptics. "On the first floor we have emergency wing. The second floor, we have the maternity wing." She rattled off the different specialized areas of the hospital, telling everything from the lab room to the janitors break room. "And in the hillside behind the garden courtyard, we have the sanitarium. Isn't that where you're headed?"

Tatsumi-sensei, father to Seiichirou, was a tall man with Prussian blue eyes and almost whitish blond hair. He wore a dark black suede coat and a hat with jacket, black slacks, tweed shirt and a tie that was popular in the west. It was the easiest costume since he was trained and raised mostly in Europe. "Yes. Please take us there."

Nurse Rei quickly paced ahead, but had to slow down when she realized that the doctor took smaller, deliberate steps in order for his son to keep pace. When she waited, she gazed at the child. He was very serious boy, with that slight hint of arrogance, self-assurance and nonchalance befitting to a son of a surgeon. However, the child was only five year old and the sanitarium did contain some unstable patients who would enjoy strangling the life out of small helpless creatures.

"Are you sure it's...prudent to bring a child in here?" asked Rei.

Tatsumi-sensei walked past her. "You're not in a position to question me, Rei-san. Now, where is Muraki?"

Rei blushed, appropriately reprimanded for questioning a doctor's choices and more than a little frightened by the man's gaze "Of course. Right this way." Tatsumi sensei was notorious for having that aura of scariness as default. Taking another glance at the child, she could see that the scariness was rubbing off. The child did not have that characteristic dislike or fear of hospitals. Instead, he seemed fascinated by corners and shadows, as if he saw something that no others could see. Rei could not but feel little disturbed by the pair.

They walked past a garden courtyard where old folks milled around aimlessly in walkers and wheelchairs. It was late afternoon and Seiichirou gazed in wonder at the strange people in black suites holding charm papers. Those people in suites were always at hospitals, but hospital staff and patient did not seem to see them. And those people in suites did not seem to notice that Seiichirou could see them.

Mother said that they were...what was it...shinigami? Ghost people? Whatever they were, mother said that as long as Seiichirou doesn't approach them or try to talk to them, he will not be bothered. Seiichirou felt his father's grip tighten. Did father see them too? But father would never admit to such a thing. Seiichirou tossed his question out of his mind. If it was important enough, father would tell him.

They quickly passed the courtyard and into the office area of the sanitarium. The colors here were tainted with sepia and old photographs on the wall. Inside the largest office was another man who looked much like father. Both had the same silvery blonde hair and sharp facial features. When placed next to each other, they looked almost like twins. The only exception was that this new person had silver gray eyes while father had deep blue eyes.

"Ah. Yukitaka nii-san. It's been a while," said Tatsumi-sensei, reaching out for a handshake. "How is your wife, Miri?"

"She's breeding, on her fifth child and counting," said Yukitaka sarcastically. "Even when I haven't visited her bed in months." The tone was replaced by an artificial cheer when he saw the small child next to the man. "Oh! And this must be your precious Seiichirou."

"Ah. That's right. I thought it's time for you to meet him. Seiichirou. Say hello to Yukitaka Oji-san."

Seiichirou, at the urging of his father, stepped out of his father's shadow and reach forward for a handshake. "Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Tatsumi Seiichirou. Please extend to me your courtesy."

"Well. What a delightfully polite child!" The doctor cooed, "I'm Muraki Yukitaka, but you may call me Yuki-Oji-san. You might not know this, but your father and I are cousins, through our mothers. Or, should I say, your grandmother and my grandmother are sisters," said Muraki-sensei, hunching down to look at the boy and grabbed hold of the boy's chin. "You have your father's scheming wickedness in your eyes."

Seiichirou recoiled immediately, more out of innate dislike of the comment than of fear. His expression barely changing.

"He's shy," mumbled Muraki-sensei. "Pity."

"Hardly," said Tatsumi-sensei, while he scooted his son back into the shadows of his coat. The boy was still very much attached to his parents and had yet to feel embarrassed for their intimate protection. "He's smart enough not to trust you."

"Your words wound me, Geniichirou!" said Muraki-sensei dramatically, holding a hand over his chest as if his soul was wounded. "Have you no heart for your dearest nii-san?"

"Are you going to let me anywhere near you with a scalpel?"

"Good heavens! No! You're too good of a surgeon and you don't like me enough."

"Then that's my answer," said Tatsumi-sensei dryly. "Now, pleasure or business first? Didn't you say you want my opinion on the patient in Ward Number four."

Muraki-sensei's eyes glowed with unquestionable hunger. "Let us indulge in pleasure first. I'm desperate for some intelligent shop talk," he said with a manic smile. "Want some tea? Geni? I've read your recent paper on optic nerve reconnectivity. What a fascinating topic, you must tell me of your discoveries."

The two doctors began a quiet but rapid conversation involving a lot of strange words, absorbed in exchanging information regarding their craft.

The five-year-old, though, was beginning to get bored of it after two minutes. Big people talk in a way that even he could not understand. Father only brought him because mother returned to her family for the annual religious rites and he couldn't very well leave a five-year-old home by himself. The gossipy neighbors would never let Tatsumi's wife hear the end of it.

"Chichi-ue, I'm going to explore," said Seiichirou. It was not a question.

Father nodded absently. "Yes. Come back when it's time," said Father distractedly. Muraki was entertaining him with the details of unusual and unique patients. Seiichirou was such a good child that Tatsumi-sensei knew that he need not keep an eye on him. He barely noticed his son slipping out.

* * *

Now given complete freedom, Seiichirou wandered the hallways. He was careful to keep telling himself that he did not want to be seen, a trick that he learned while almost getting caught for sampling the neighbor's rice pot. He learned recently that when he wanted it, people do not to see him. It was a great way to evade playground bullies and go into places adults said that he could not go. All in all, it works pretty well, as long as it is not completely dark or completely bright. What he did learn the hard way was that his parents were not immune to his tricks. Mother had caught him one night, sneaking treats to bed. He earned himself some quality time with the wall and his own shadow.

Down the hallway he went, looking through half closed doors and hearing desperate shrieks that ended abruptly and gibbering nonsense. It seemed that his wish was working. The nurses walked by him, turning momentarily only to see a wavering shadow caused by a flickering light bulb. There were doctors too, old with that characteristic seriousness about them. Doctor looked at Seiichirou's way far more often, but even they thought of him as a trick of the setting afternoon sun.

Seiichirou did not mind the lack of attention. He was actually thrilled by the unknown, excited by wonders of discovery. If only there were less of those ghost people, he might feel more of that thrill.

Ghost people were strange. There were those with hair in front of their faces, hanging around darken corners and closets. There were several others too, spinning at the end of an imaginary rope, twitching hopelessly on the floor or even in pools of dark water. Shinigamis did not look so much like ghost people, but they had similar auras.

All of them ignored Seiichirou as if he did not exist.

It was just as well. He wanted to explore in peace.

The first place he went to was the courtyard. He meandered in the heavily flowered garden, straying away from the main path. He mentally imagined himself to be some type of early explorer discovering the fable Eden. And like a loving son, he imagined himself bringing back treasures for his beloved parents, particularly his adored mother.

It did not take long before he found a shiny rock for father. Seiichirou's heart soared at the thought of his father's praise.

Mother was a trickier. Mother was female and therefore, automatically complicated and difficult to please. Things like a pretty rock or a neat lady bug would not do. Mother liked soft and pretty things like her florid kimonos or brilliant ribbons. Eventually, Seiichirou settled on a safe gift, flowers.

It took some time to select the right blooms in the hospital garden. Roses were nice, but they had prickly thorns to cut his fingers if he was not careful. Water lilies meant getting his feet wet and he was not about to explain his squeaky shoes. He personally liked yellow flowers like chrysanthemum or sunflowers, but those flowers were too top heavy and tend to droop after being picked.

Finally, he saw them, pretty little blue flowers that could have been mistaken for weeds. They were called myosotis, or forget-me-nots. His mother had once professed that these tiny simple blue flowers were her favorites. Seiichirou smiled as he harvested a handful, driven by the imagines of a smile gracing his mother's sullen face.

Now he has the flowers, he was in a new dilemma. He needed something to put them in. Neatness was important matter in the Tatsumi house. With flowers in hand, he went back to his silent exploring and it did not take long before he found an unused glass vase in one of the empty rooms.

Satisfied with his work, Seiichirou hugged the vase, pleased with himself for being so thoughtful. Now he was ready to go back to his father.

On his way back though, he passed by a particularly dark hall. Unlike the rest of the hospital, no light bulb shone and everything was lit by candle. There was soft padding on the walls and no desperate shrieks or incoherent gibberish. It was quiet but lacked the amount of dust characteristic of an abandoned area.

And the shadows themselves seemed to whisper many strange things about things at the end of the hall. Things that made Seiichirou more curious than afraid.

Spying a lit kerosene lamp left on a convenient cushioned bench, Seiichirou decided to go down that hall with a vase in one hand and the lamp on the other. Wobbling slightly, as he was still small and his material burden were heavy for a child, Seiichirou set fearlessly down the dark hall.

The hall ended with a door that reads 'Ward No. 4.'

Seiichirou stared, his sense reeling. There was something in there...something breathing but not exactly alive.

First, he rapped on the door gently three times. When there was no answer, he reached for the handle.

It was locked.

Seiichirou made a face at it and stood really close to it until his shadows made contact with the keyhole.

The door clicked and suddenly swung open soundlessly. It was very dark, cold and small inside. The room was padded, with only a bed in the corner, a sink at another, a dull white cabinet at the third corner and two small end tables next to the head and foot of the bed. Between the end tables was a chair. The floor itself was dirty linoleum, stained with dried blood. A couple of cockroaches skittered at his feet.

Seiichirou absorbed the scenery without comment. He had seen this sight before, in the many other hospitals that father inspected. In fact, there was something on the bed...something that seemed abandoned.

In his intense curiosity, Seiichirou unconsciously relaxed that tightness that he kept around his mind. Immediately, the many shadows in the room rolled around like a wave, responding to him and the kerosene lamp light. With a child's nimbleness, Seiichirou managed to climb up on the chair, placed the kerosene lamp at the end table near the foot of the bed and the flowers on the other. He leaned over to take a look at the lump on the bed.

On the bed was a man on his back, his arms laid straight on his side. He was only covered up to his waist with a thin sheet. His skin was plaid but still touched with the pink of life and the coldness of a corpse. His breath shallow but quick enough to indicate his wakefulness. One of his eyes was bandaged, but his other eye, open and unseeing.

Seiichirou felt a profound sympathy tug at his heart strings. The man had a comely face though rather sad. With an urge to get a better look at those eyes, Seiichirou reached over with his childish fingers and brush away those messy dark brown bangs. The hair was soft. The one visible eye was pretty, a fierce violet color, full of self guilt and sadness.

Seiichirou immediately frowned. That face reminded him of his mother's sorrowful expression with sad eyes constantly obscured by her luxurious hair. There were just so many similarities. His mother's face and this stranger's face were both soft, delicate, young, hurt, not quite innocent nor quite wicked. Even to the manner they wore their clothes, thin multi layered clothes loose about the shoulders, revealing tender skin around the neck and collarbone. Their flesh always seemed too chilly to the touch. Only difference was that mother was a female and this person was a male.

"Why are you here nii-san?" Seiichirou asked gently, feeling that not so unfamiliar urge to comfort this stranger. Unconsciously, the shadows had gathered around this prostrated patient, covering and softly touching young man like a mother would cradle her child.

Perhaps it was the shadows. Perhaps it was the first time that a child had ever entered this godforsaken room. But the man blinked and singular visible eye focused.

Seiichirou felt his heart quicken and his shadows retreating back to himself. This was an uncertain moment.

There was no sudden movement. Instead, the patient only rolled his head slightly to take a better look at the person who had so ruthlessly dragged him out of that internal storm.

There was confusion reflect in that one visible violet orb.

"Who are you...?" The man said, his voice a hoarse whisper as if he had not talked in years.

"I'm...Sei," the boy said, feeling that a simple name might be best than trying to introduce him to his full name. "Who are you?"

_My name is...Tsuzuki...Tsuzuki Asato..._

"Asato," Tsuzuki finally gave. He blinked as if still dazed. He struggled to sit up for a better view, trying to see if he really was not dreaming. There was an ambiance here. It was not completely bright like the times when the doctor was in here nor completely dark when they left him alone. Most of all, there was heat and light. How long was he here? Where was....

"Asato nii-san, why are you here? Are you sick?" Seiichirou asked, distracting the man from spiraling back into his own mind.

"I'm....," Asato began, but did not finish. Instead, a tear fell down his cheek as memories upon memories came back in rapid succession of brutal images. The people he killed. The family he sacrificed. The one lover whom he killed. They left him. They all abandoned and forgotten him. All that was left were their incriminating bloodied faces, looking at him, disappointed, angry and disgusted, their blood still fresh as he had only killed them yesterday.

Seiichirou's expression was one of discomfort. He did not like to see tears. It reminded him of how often his mother would inexplicably be reduced to a sobbing mess and very few things would bring her out of her own mental hell. One time, he had became so distressed that he could not stop her crying that even he started crying too. The entire ordeal eventually involved a knife that resulted in a lot of blood and watching father stitch mother's fragile wrist back together. Seiichirou was left extremely shaken by the event and he promised himself no matter how devastated he felt on the inside, he would never cry again; he would always be the strength his mother needs.

Seiichirou still wanted to stop this stranger's tears though. An idea popped into his head as he quickly stuck the newly harvested bouquet of tiny blue flowers in a vase to him.

The affect was immediate. Tsuzuki blinked at the flowers present in front of his face, not sure what to do with them.

"Here. This is for you, nii-san," Seiichirou said. "A present, to cheer you up. So please do not cry."

Tsuzuki awkwardly accepted the vase. The blue flowers were fresh and his vision was still rather blurry. "Myosotis," Asato said in recognition. He touched the petals, fingering the texture and shape and dully going through a metal index of flowers. "Forget-me-nots."

"Wow. You know what they are!" The boy was pleased. "These are hahawe's favorite flowers. I tell her that they do not match her eyes, but she says that they remind her that all her memories are important and that her precious person is the reason she still lives."

"I do not wish to remember," Asato admitted as he stared at the flowers. His own inner demon showing him how he trimmed the buds of a flower as an allusion to his evil needs. "I do not even wish to be alive..."

Tsuzuki almost jumped as he felt a hesitant sleeve brushing against his cheeks, wiping away his tears. "It's going to be alright, nii-san. I promise you." Even more surprising, he felt a light reassuring kiss on his forehead and tiny fingers combing his hair. The touch was light and foreign. Very few had ever touched him so kindly.

In all reality, Seiichirou felt his heart pound madly as he observed the blank look on nii-san's face. Those gestures were the same ones he had used to gain a measure of calm over his own mother. Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, it backfired. Sometimes, nothing changed.

From the looks on nii-san's face, it was the last and most common of the three reactions. Nothing had changed. In one last desperate attempt, Seiichirou covered nii-san's hands with his own. "Asato Ni-san. I pray that you'll receive your heart's desires. I pray that everything will be alright, that you will know peace and that you will smile again."

The child's voice was sincere and heartfelt. The shadows in the room flickered only once as if a breeze went through the room.

"I am very tired," Tsuzuki suddenly whispered to himself. It was strange. He suddenly felt as if someone had pulled a veil over his head. A light airy gossamer, not the suffocating embrace of drugs; the sensation was much like dreaming. The room seemed to be shifting, dark corners seemed darker.

He placed the vase on the end table next to his pillow and focused on the wall. The contrast of the bed post shadow seemed to be stirring like willows in the wind. His terrible memories were still there, but they were dull and his emotional distress seemed to wane. He could only think of one thing. "I haven't slept in..." he trailed off. How long since he slept? Why did he stay awake? Was it to keep that terrifying demon child at bay? Will there not be anyone else there to help him? "I do not want to go to sleep alone..."

"But you aren't alone," Seiichirou stated, apprehensive relief in his voice, glad that the prayer worked. "I'm here. Why don't you go to sleep nii-san? I'll be here to keep you company."

Tsuzuki nodded listlessly. "Alright."

Seiichirou watched the patient settled himself back into the bed, singular violet eye closing but his breathing wasn't regular enough to be asleep. A little anxious, Seiichirou began to stroke the man's hair, raking his tiny fingers across his scalp.

It took a long time, but nii-san's breathing finally deepened to one of blissful sleep.

Seiichirou, tired from his adventure and effort to calm this person, decided that a short nap was in order for a boy who worked so hard. He eventually laid himself against nii-san chest because it was slightly cold in the room. The man's slow but rhythmic heart beat lulled the boy to sleep.

* * *

Written 1-11-10

Revision A: 1-12-10 : Thanks to Lady Bellatrix for pointing out the errors.


	2. Chapter 2

The Patient in Ward 4 - Part II

When Geniichirou noted that it was already sun-down and his son had yet to return, he gently interrupted his cousin in middle of his impassionate discussion about types of madness and the ability of mind over body. Geniichirou very calmly explained his concerns and requested aid in a search.

"You're not worried, Geni?" Yukitaka asked his impassive cousin. A normal father would have started panicking. First born sons were important after all, and more important that they're the only child. Geniichirou, however, was not any normal father.

No one with the taint of their psychotic grandmother could be normal.

"Seiichirou probably fell asleep somewhere," said Geniichirou. "But somewhere safe."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," said Geniichirou with a shrug.

"Do you have to be so cryptic all the time, Geni?"

"Don't you have similar connection with your children?" asked Geniichirou.

Yukitaka only smiled sarcastically. "If they're mine."

The two doctors set out, going through the inner courtyard, searching the bathroom and the janitor's closet. They would have enlisted the help of other nurses but it was afterhours and only a skeleton crew was available. Yukitaka call his nephew's name, but Geniichirou kept his mouth shut. Eventually, they began searching the actual patient's wards. The first several rooms were empty, and several others were filled with drug induced patients. There were a few mad ones where the patients seemed determined to rip off one of their own limbs. Luckily, they did not find a child there.

Eventually, there was only one room left, Ward No. 4.

"He can't be in here," said Yukitaka as they peered down the dark hallway. "The door is locked. This is the patient that I've been telling you about and I always made sure that he doesn't escape and hurt himself."

Geniichirou gave one of his rare commanding looks. "Just do as I say. And do it quietly. My son is a light sleeper and I want him to wake up gently."

The other silvery haired doctor growled before reaching into his pocket for keys. Geniichirou had a force of personality that commanded people's absolute obedience, a force that even Yukitaka could not withstand.

The door unlocked and swung open. Yukitaka only gasped.

Geniichirou's old boy had somehow fallen asleep on top of Yukitaka's prized patient. Even more mysterious, the patient had an arm over the child, just like how an older brother would hold a younger brother.

Geniichirou, however, was not distracted by the scene. He went over to his son and gently shook the boy on the shoulder. The surgeon had a rare chance to gaze upon the patient's sleeping face and paused ever so slightly.

Even Geniichirou felt as if he was looking down at his wife.

The boy stirred lightly and blinked his bleary eyes. Like any child, he was disgruntled by his disrupted nap.

"You had me worried," said Geniichirou plainly, leaning over to pick him up.

The boy rubbed his eyes. No matter how tired he was, he could still easily perceive truth. "No. You were not," he muttered sleepily before wrapping his arms around his father neck to be lifted.

Geniichirou said nothing but looked bemused. He hoisted his son up only to drop him back to the ground. The boy rubbed his eyes some more, standing perfectly on his own, but still mentally asleep.

The patient, deprived of warm teddy bear, shivered once before turning over on his side and continued sleeping. He looked calm, even serene. It was a change not lost on Yukitaka.

The three of them left the room quietly.

Out in the hall, Yukitaka found himself chuckling at the irony of the situation. Eight years spent to drag every conceivable reaction out of his special patient except for true tranquility and his five-year old nephew was able elicit it in an afternoon. Somehow, that fact stoked Yukitaka's pride. "My my. I think this is the first time I've seen this man sleeping."

Geniichirou interest was piqued. "The same one who haven't slept in years?"

Yukitaka silvery eyes gleamed as he nodded solemnly. "I do wonder how did your boy calm him down? He was raving so badly recently that we had to put him in a straight jacket before he cut himself again. It was only recently that he stopped but he turned despondent," He glanced at Seiichirou, a crazed hunger in his eyes. "Tell me. How did you get him to sleep, my boy."

His uncle's sudden interest in him hardly roused the boy from his lassitude. The boy gave the easiest answer. "I don't know."

"But you must tell me! How you calmed him enough to sleep!" Yukitaka shouted, reaching over to grab the boy's neck when his imperturbable cousin suddenly shifted.

Geniichirou spun aside quickly and grabbed Yukitaka's outreached wrist. In two steps, he slammed his cousin against the wall, locking both of his cousin's elbows, immobilizing him. The surgeon whispered into Yukitaka's ear, "That, is my son's secret. And you know our law..."

The older doctor shivered as he felt Geniichirou's hot breath on his ear. "Yes! I know! Secrets shall remain secrets," Yukitaka shouted irritably. "I know the family edicts! All of us reserve the right to answer. You don't have to remind me."

Yukitaka felt his cousin's weight lift and Yukitaka quickly lengthened the distance between them. He rubbed his sore wrist and elbow. It was the one thing he forgot about his dear cousin; Tatsumi-sensei was far stronger than he looked. "Damn it, Geni," Yukitaka spat. "Why must you always keep to secrets?"

"Because secrets are the only reason we still trust each other, Yukitaka nii-san," said Tatsumi-sensei with a sardonic twist of his lips, his arms crossed. "I don't pry into your more interesting affairs and you don't investigate my personal hobbies. We do not interfere with each other."

"That type of insolence is only going to get you killed, Geni-ototo-san," said Yukitaka, his voice dripping with acid.

"Then you have my permission to gloat over my dead body when it happens," said Tatsumi-sensei, reaching over and patting Yukitaka's cheek lightly. It was a similar gesture that once held much gentler feelings. Now, there was only irony. "You know what, Yukitaka nii-san, I don't think I'll say anything about your unique patient. In fact, I won't even examine him."

"What?"

Geniichirou smiled bitterly. How far had his beloved cousin fallen? "It's obvious that whatever you're doing here violates the regulation of the Ministry of Health. Frankly, I don't feel like keeping your secrets for you. I've already know enough to blackmail you out of this job and completely destroy your reputation. I don't think an extra piece of information is going to make it easier than it already is," He brightened suddenly. "Now, should we proceed to a polite dinner at your humble abode? We will have to, for appearances sake."

Muraki-sensei seemed confused for a second, then he scoffed in defeat. Tatsumi-sensei rarely took the offensive, but when he did, even Muraki knew retreat. "I guess this is payback for almost killing your beautiful wife six years ago, isn't it? You actually love that depressed demon whore."

As usual, Tatsumi-sensei did not react at all to verbal insults. Instead, he replied, "Always get even. That is also another one our edicts."

"But blood is blood," Yukitaka reminded him. "We do not harm our own."

Geniichirou scoffed. "All that means is that we can't kill each other directly, as you've so aptly demonstrated with your brothers," Seeing his cousin's incredulous look, he further explained. "Secrets shall remain secrets, Yuki nii-san, but that doesn't mean I can't deduce that the fat-laden minced meat you provided at the family gathering after your brothers' disappearance wasn't exactly pork." A chilling smile graced his lips. "Not that I mind. I'm glad that at least their flesh was not wasted."

Muraki-sensei started at his cousin for a moment, not so much astonished at what Geniichirou found out, but how Geniichirou came to find out. Just another proof of his cousin's lack of regard for the moral norm against killing and kept secrets as blackmail.

Then Muraki shook his head, recalling why Geniichirou was so special to him.

Geniichirou was unlike any of their kin. When they first met as children, Geniichirou gave instead of took, shared instead of hoarded, and accepted instead of criticized. It had helped that they enjoyed similar topics and shared similar opinions. Growing up, Geniichirou was Yukitaka's constant playmate, friend, and intellectual equal and favorite puzzle. Geniichirou had a mysterious affect about him that saw far into the future. Everything his cousin said came true, and that puzzle drew Yukitaka like a moth to a flame. In time, Yukitaka had found himself desperately enamored with his secretive cousin, a feeling that was returned at some level.

Then Geniichirou met up with that witch six years ago and tainted their bloodline with a child. He made a family and moved far away, returning only once a year. Worse yet, Geniichirou had the gall to act as if he was content with the disgraceful arrangement.

Perhaps that was the reason Yukitaka became fixated with patient in Ward No. 4. That pretty face and eyes so similar to his unofficial rival. Someone to blame for stealing Yukitaka's greatest companion. Someone whom would make Yukitaka famous in the medical community for breaking that barrier between life and death. He reveled in the image of Geniichirou begging him to be taken back.

"Well, I'll admit defeat, for now," said Muraki-sensei, his smiles returned but the manic look in his eyes did not. There will be time to plot and get even. "Besides, I think I will be sad if I am deprived of your affections. Let's go have a nice dinner at my home. I won't even try to poison the food, not that it makes any difference with us."

Tatsumi-sensei nodded. "It shall be our honor to dine with you."

"I'll go get a carriage."

Muraki-sensei quickly left the hall before his mislead fascination with his indiscriminate cousin forced him into another mistake.

------------------

Geniichirou looked back to the darken hallway to the door of ward number four. He saw tendrils of power emitting from that room and a fate that inevitably linked all of them in a devilish cycle. Did Seiichirou see this? Did his devil possessed cousin see this? Did any of the idiot shinigamis milling around this death factory noticed? Tatsumi Geniichirou dared not say. He worked too hard to gained unlikely advantages. He dare not lose it by a miscalculated word. He was no longer some maverick, free to take whatever risks with only himself to lose. He had a family to care and protect now, a fact that troubled him. It was irrational to put their needs above all else. One must be selfish before others.

The child was tugging at his father's pant leg. He was awake now.

Geniichirou shook his head to clear the shadowy fog in his mind. His son had a strange ability to make anything, animals, humans and ghosts, momentarily forget that he was there. His wife had explained why once, and had told her husband that being aware of Seiichirou's ability would be enough to guard against it, for a while at least.

"What is it?" Geniichirou kneeled to be at eye level with his son.

"For you, chichi-ue!" Cupped in the boy's hands was a shiny silicate rock, partially clear with noted blue streak through crystalline structure.

Astonishment graced Geniichirou's features once before he accepted the rock with a heartfelt smile. Once again, he was reminded why he had thrown away safety and comfort. He loved his wife and child and they truly loved him back unconditionally.

The boy was pleased at his father's expression. Now was the perfect time to ask for a favor. "Can we come back here, again?" the boy asked innocently, staring into his father's eyes. "I want to see Asato nii-san again. Haha-ue should come too! She'll be so surprised that someone looks so similar to her! Think she'll smile then?"

Geniichirou closed his eyes momentarily, thinking about the prudency of ever coming back here. That special corner of his mind quietly informed him that it would be a stupid decision, no matter how much peace the simple meeting would bring to his wife and child. Bringing those two would only give his crazed cousin advantages that Geniichirou cannot afford.

"No," Tatsumi-sensei said flatly. "We will not."

"Oh..." The child's shoulders slumped.

"But..." That special corner in Geniichirou's mind stirred again, flashing clear images of the future without the accompanying meaning or feeling. "I'm certain that you'll see him again, just not here."

"Will he be better then? Can you tell?"

The father shook his head. "That, I do not know." He tapped his temple lightly. "Prescience is imprecise. It shows you and him, with much...black fire."

"I see." There was acceptance in the boy's tone, his usual mask of blank observation returning. "Are we going now? We must not let Yukitaka-ojisan wait for us."

Tatsumi-sensei nodded as he felt the small hand worm its way to his own. It was odd, but for some reason, he felt as if his son's hand was colder and that the usual smothering calm was absent. For a moment, he had to surpass that natural fear of his son's strange ability. There were many uncanny things that would occur near Seiichirou, many innocent and not so innocent happenings. Children could be far more indiscriminate haters. Worse, there was no way to tell what his son was thinking.

Seiichirou looked back to the door at the end of the hall and waved. "Good bye, Asato nii-san. I hope you're better the next time I see you."

------------------

Tsuzuki's attention was on the flower and the vase contrast against the wall. There was just something about it that gave him hope. Doctors and nurses only gave him pain, poking him with needles and shoving bitter pills down his throat. He had refused food, stabbed one of his eyes out, willed himself to die and certainly attempted suicide hundreds of times but could not accomplish his one simple goal. He kept on drifting between empty insanity and maddening sanity, screaming and shouting in his own mental hell fire, crying for anything to distract him.

But that child, just having that child stroke his hair was...calming, bashing his worries. For the first time in eight years, he slept, dreamlessly, at first. That evil voice in his inner mind that reminded him constantly of his sins was, for once, smothered in silence. That respite was brief and at some point, his dreams returned, ugly, hateful, filled with blood of the people he killed and the screams of his sister and family. He woke up in a daze, alone and confused.

When he finally regained some semblance of thought, he noted the dully that he had yet to escape the prison of his body and that child was gone. Was that child a dream? A figment of his deranged mind trying to cope with his inescapable reality? His own mind had certainly attempted that on several occasions though it typically consisted of seeing his younger self.

He glanced at the vase of forget-me-nots sitting in a vase, on the end table next to his pillow.

No. That child was real. Tsuzuki had not been dreaming. That child really was there, really held his hands and watched over him as he finally fell asleep for the first time in eight years.

Tsuzuki leaned closer to the flower, only to note that the flowers had wilted. Its petals fallen over on Tsuzuki's pillow. How long had it been? Hours? Days? Months? Was he...abandoned again? Hurt by the person whom he thought he could trust? Just like how Muraki had said to heal him but only saw him as an interesting lab rat? Just like how the villagers hurt Ruka after promising not to?

In a jumble of emotions, Tsuzuki could only identify one of them, betrayal. No. It was not real. Even the pretty little blue flowers were not real. No one loved him! No one cared for him! He had forsaken God, killed all those people and therefore deserved this punishment!

In a fit of madness and distress, Tsuzuki grabbed the vase and flung it to the ground. Trying to convince himself that whatever measure of peace he felt was just illusions to make him more tractable. There was no flower, no vase, nothing! The glass won't even make a sound! It won't even break!

The vase slammed into the floor and shattered into pieces, another mundane noise muffled by the despair inside the hospital.

Tsuzuki stared in shock. That vase and flowers were real, left by the one person who still cared for him. Frantically, Tsuzuki flew from his bed and knelt down at the shattered vase and spilled wilted flowers.

His face now expressed horror, horror that he had destroyed the one gift he was ever given. He hurried to put it back together, he wanted, no, needed, this symbol of hope that someone still cherished him in some way. There were so many pieces, so many sharp needle pricks that bloodied his hand in his frantic need to put back together what he had carelessly destroyed.

But he could not.

After what felt like eternity, between sobs, he could only shake as he gazed with his only visible dull eye at the pieces of the vase and the semi-dried stems. Like his life, he just could not piece together things that mattered. He was doomed to break everything he treasured. He felt terrible, utterly terrible. He buried his face in his bloodied hands, wishing again and again that he was never born and that he could escape and end these long twenty-some years.

Then, he noticed something strange. He looked at his hands, still bloodied from the various shards of the glass vase. Blood was flowing, the cut into the muscle of his hands was still there. He was no longer...healing...?

Was this a miracle?

Almost vicariously, Tsuzuki picked out a long glass shard in his left hand and applied pressure to his right wrist, easily slicing through the previous suicide scars, into the vein and arteries, nearly cutting the tendons.

Blood spurted, spilling as one would spill water.

The cut was not healing. He saw traces of dark shadows digging deeper into the fissure of the cut tissues like tendrils of silk, holding the wound open.

A ghost of a smile graced Tsuzuki's lips, watching the red dye drip on the dirty floor and spread through his hospital gown. His felt his heart pound and his stomach dropped as his body began to struggle. He felt nauseated and elated at the same time. For once, the cut was not healing! He was dying for real! How was he able to have this miracle?

_I pray that you'll receive your heart's desires. I pray that everything will be alright and that you will know peace and that you will smile again._

Was it that child? That strange tyke who feared not his eyes but his tears?

So he was NOT dreaming.

With a thankful heart and ecstatic sigh, Tsuzuki dragged himself back to bed. Heavy limbs did not even flinch as his arm knocked over the kerosene lamp, spilling the volatile lamp oil onto the foot of his own bed and setting it in flames.

Blood flowed, staining his gown and pooling on the floor even as the small fire licked his lower limbs. His head was light, and he felt his pulse slow. His hands, however, clutched the bloodied shard like his most treasured possession. Of all objects he had attempted to use to cut an artery and kill himself, this one shattered gift was the only one that truly hurt his flesh and keep the wounds open, giving him the chance for peace he never knew.

He slumped back into the bed, not even flinching as felt the heat travel up his torso. The lower half of the bed was in flames now, the flammable liquid spreading the fire slowly up to the pillow. An inexplicable umbra seemed to entwine themselves in the reddish dance until the even the fire seemed black.

Tsuzuki was barely aware of the strange fire. He turned his head only to look at the semi-dried blue flower lying next to his head, feeling his body heat up. There was still faint tint of blue in midst of the wilted brown petals.

Tsuzuki smiled. He thought of the child, that serious child with a strange but gentle shadow, that child who gave him the one gift that would no doubt free him. Calm finally over took him as he waited for the inevitable; his bloodied and seared fingers reached up to the pillow, touching the fallen wilted petals fondly as if he could feel the child beside him again. Dark tendrils protecting the wilted petals as he touched them. Blissful minutes went by as the flames scorched through his hospital gown, leaving blackening caress on his flesh. His mind drifted as his heart struggled for blood, lungs gasped for air and the entire body reeled from the impromptu pyre.

_Thank You..._

Tsuzuki felt his cheek burn. The flames had reached his neck.

_My savior..._

He shivered, the result of surficial nerves finally dying from extensive cellular damage and blood loss.

_I can finally go...peacefully..._

He could not feel his lower body anymore, but he can still see the yellow flames directed and controlled by a familiar darkness.

_I only wish..._

Singular unbandaged violet eye became unseeing, the blood loss was too much and the flames had finally swallowed his eye. He still felt the petals on his cheeks.

_We had..._

He remembered that hand, tenderly touching his cheeks and smoothing his hair, reassuring that everything is going to be alright. That strong, unshakable faith, surrounded by comforting shadows, leading him to safety. It was his last coherent image.

_Known each other better..._

Darkness and flames finally enveloped him.

* * *

The next morning, Muraki-sensei found his favorite patient, favorite experiment, favorite scapegoat, alongside with a whole lot of valuable flesh gone, reduced to dust and charcoal.

Muraki-sensei shook in fury.

According to the report from the distressed fire brigade and the responsible nurse, someone had carelessly left a kerosene lamp inside. The patient must had regained some lucidity some point last night and decided to set himself on fire.

Muraki-sensei was hardly a child to believe everything he was told. After surveying the scene, he noted the fresh stains on the linoleum floor and jagged edges of a glass vase. There was also that suspicious remnant of small wilted blue flowers left on the ashes, completely untouched by the flames. The room itself was not burned and only the bed and body was torched. There was not even blacken residue on the ceiling and it almost seemed as if all the heat was confined and focused on the body in order to reduce it to a cremated state where Muraki could not even harvest the bones.

Something supernatural was at work here. Muraki-sensei was enough of a dabbler in the arcane arts to know that this could only be the product of his devious enigmatic cousin.

"God damn you, Geni!" he shouted at the empty room. "God damn you and your little violet eyed whore and scheming child!"

He should had poisoned the child's food and held the antidote for ransom. How could they waste a body that took neither food nor water and lived for eight years? The miraculous compounds that body could have, perhaps revealing an elixir that healed all wounds and even provide a drug for eternal life. Muraki could have found a way to heal all his other patients! All it needed was the sacrifice of one measly subject. Even that was too much to ask. Muraki was angry, enraged that years of study was now at an indefinite standstill because he had allowed personal sentiments to overcome logics.

"I swear I'll get even Geni! If not, my descents will!"

* * *

_Author's end note: I've always wondered why Tatsumi really looks a lot like Muraki and vice versa. I mean, those two have too many things in common; type A personality, Type A blood, born in the same month, perverse circular logic, even that insane drive to always get what they wanted, no matter who they hurt and how they did it. Both bully their peers on a regular basis. Hell, they both killed (or at least felt responsible for) their own mothers and they both directly or indirectly caused Tsuzuki pain. _

_They HAVE to be related._

_Also, remember how there's literally nothing known about Tatsumi. His shadow magic must be powerful since it can save Tsuzuki and Hisoka from Touda's flames and kick the sadistic Muraki Kazutaka's ass._

_Lastly, please tell me if this should have been in M section. The insinuated topics are a little over the top when I thought about it._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Child with Blue Eyes - Part I

AN: Originally, the entire thing was a ten part chapter with three arcs, with Patient in Ward 4 as the first arc. This was actually the first chapter that I wrote sometime back when inspiration hit but felt it was a little blah. Oh well. I might as well post it because there are too few T/T out there.

Warning: AU!!! Common conceptions shall fail! Do not say that I did not warn you!

Summary: A beginning of a friendship story between a shinigami and an live child. Tatsumi/Tsuzuki.

* * *

The two were in the empty Bureau office. It was already late and sun was low on the horizon.

"Tsuzuki! I told you to just hook their souls quickly instead of just wait and see. That infant was suppose to die two days ago! You've needlessly allowed the mother to suffer for two additional days," Yamada Ken, a thirty-years some looking shinigami, reprimended his younger partner.

Tsuzuki winced, having nothing to say. He kept on looking down to his toe, rightfully ashamed.

"What is wrong with you? You've been at this job for four years! You've already mastered ofuda magic and obtained two shikigamis already. In terms of shinigami's spiritual power, you're far more advanced than anyone in the history of the summoning division, but you still can't take souls properly." Yamada's face spoke volumns of faild expectations. The man was dark haired with equally dark eyes. He was somewhat stout, probably a little shorter than Tsuzuki, but the way he carried himself, he seemed to tower over his quaking partner.

Tsuzuki swallowed hard. This was one of few times that Yamada openly expressed his disappointment in his performance. Before, Tsuzuki had relied on Yamada's confidence and gentle guidance. Yamada, being an experienced and patient shinigami, allowed Tsuzuki to just tag along, letting the rookie most of the detective work but took over when it came to the actual summoning. The second block had always been quiet compared to other blocks so Yamada was rarely pressed for time.

But having Tsuzuki was like having a curse. Tsuzuki was the paragon of klutzhood that the point that he was an idiot savant. Tsuzuki had a habit of using too much power for all cases and losing objective. The man was too much of a slave to his heart, always getting emotionally involved with the summoned souls that results in delayed judgement, some destruction of property and reprimend from their chief, Kuro. So far, none of Tsuzuki's mishaps resulted in anything unsalavagable. If anything, the most difficult thing about Tsuzuki was the man's habit of self-incrimination reduced him to catatonia for days at times. During that time, Yamada had to handle the cases by himself and babysit the useless shinigami.

A proper complaint had been filtered up the ranks, of course. EnmaCho's summoning division was just not suitable fit for Tsuzuki, whom Yamada considered mentally ill. Yamada's complaint fell on deaf ears, however. It was one of the most worse kept secrets in all EnmaCho that their employer favored Tsuzuki for reasons no one can fathom.

"You cannot continue like this," said Yamada, letting out his dissatisfaction in guiding an spiritually talented shinigami if not for all the emotional baggage Tsuzuki carried. "One day, you'll have to lead other junior agents. You have to be quicker on taking souls. You cannot be a crybaby and a failure forever. You cannot always..."

"I get it!" Tsuzuki said quietly. It was the first time he spoke since Yamada began his tirade. "I get that it was wrong to allow that woman hold her child in her arms for the first and last time. I get that it it's shinigami's duty to be unfeeling monsters. I get that I'm an idiot and a failure. You've said as much for the past four years. I understand!"

A little more than irritated that this junior agent dared to talk back, Yamada punched the man squarely on the cheek.

Tsuzuki flew backwards and fell into the ground. Far more resignate than properly schooled, Tsuzuki did not look up. The brusing on his cheek already fading the within seconds afterward. One could say that was the curse of the shinigami; they healed quickly, but the pain never dulled.

"Sorry," Yamada said but did not try to help his younger partner up. "But you do not understand. I've tried my hardest to be patient, to usher you along, but I have no result. What did I do wrong? Why did you become a shinigami in the first place when you can't even take a life properly?"

Perhaps it was the time. Perhaps it was the long string of disappointment. In the end, Yamada did not even see Tsuzuki pulled an ofuda and muttered a singe word spell.

A flash went off, momentarily blidning Yamada.

When Yamada could finally see again, Tsuzuki was no where to be found.

* * *

After the trist with Yamada, Tsuzuki decided to go to Chijou for some fresh air and clear his mind.

It was already night time. The moon was hanging low on the horizon. Children with lanterns played in the background, celebrating their rare chance to play outside so late. It was the annual lanturn festival, a time where people came out of their kerosene lamp lit homes and carry around old fashioned candles inside a paper lanturn. There was laughter and jovial screams in the background as children chased each other in a rudimentry game of tag.

Tsuzuki had somehow found his way to a seaside field that sloped gently to a stripe of beach where festival venders set up shop. He wandered in with the crowd, trying to let the generally jubilant atmosphere cheer him up. Instead, he found himself frown for half an hour, feeling more miserable than anything. Eventually, he wandered away from the shops to a field filled with fireflies and plopped down on an indiscriminate patch of grass.

Curling up, Tsuzuki hugged his knees and sighed. It was all just so pointless, trying to please anyone. If he made his own employer happy, he was miserable. If he tried to do what he felt right in his heart, his employer disapproved. In the end of that nonending circular thought, he end up feeling a angry tear roll down as he went back to that one maddening question.

Why did he become a shinigami?

The answer had escaped him for the past four years and even now, he could not satisfy his inital reason to become a shinigami when the choice was given him. Was not prerequsite to have an attachment to the living? He, who had killed himself, hardly had a reason to be attached to the living. Now he ended up killing again, over and over again, constantly being reminded of his past sins again and again, always searching for why he was still here. He was still the proclaimed monster before and after life.

Tsuzuki cover his eyes with a hand, half sobbed and laughed at himself. What kind of a fool was he to try and remember a reason? The process of becoming shinigami that gave them a new body was so mentally vigorous that certain memories were blurred away. In many cases, Tsuzuki was glad that he could not recall the intimate details of his previous life because good memories were few and far in between. But by the same token, he did not know exactly why he was here either. And like any appropriate agnsty existantial philosopher, that one lack of reason was one of the worries that kept him up at night.

Finally, after feeling rather depressed that everyone in the living world was having fun without him, he shifted to go home to Meifu. He needed to apologize to Yamada for being such an insolent partner and hopefully, there would be peace between them. Yamada had actually been very patient in these past few years and Tsuzuki was grateful. Tomorrow was a new day and he must at least try and act cheerful. The young man began to wipe his tears on his sleeves when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He looked up only to see a child in front of him.

"Are you alright ni-san?" the boy asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Tsuzuki had to stare. The child seemed normal enough, standing there, carrying a lanturn, dressed in a plain brown yukata and a child's wooden geta, lips drawn into a straight line, auburn haired, his serious blue eyes glowed in the moonlight. He looked to be ten years old. The child was so serious that he actually looked a little scary. What had surprised Tsuzuki, however, was something else completely. "You can see me?"

The child blinked, and for moment, realization expressed on his face. He looked around, his eyes focusing on other people who were strolling near the beach and other children before returning his attention back to Tsuzuki.

"Yes, but I know I'm not suppose to," his expression was guilty, like a child unwittingly taking home less than perfect marks on a test. "My teachers says that talking to imaginary friends is bad, but mum says it's okay as long as I keep it a secret. Can you please not tell anyone?"

The explanation made certain sense. Children tended to have less prejudice against the belief in spirits and ghosts so there were many reported cases where children see their deceased families' ghost. Shinigamis could also be seen in cases where children were extremely sensitive to spirits. Often, when the child was told otherwise, the child will come up with an alternative explanation such as imaginery friends. However, it seems that it was only this child who saw him. Either the child was about to die or he really could see him.

"Of course I won't tell," said Tsuzuki, not wanting to alarm the child. He asked another question, "But...do you even know what I am?"

"Of course I know what you are, you're a shinigami," the child declared without hesitation. "You come and take people to the land of the dead."

Tsuzuki blinked, hardly believing the conversation was happening. Weren't employees of JuOhCho supposed to be a complete mystery to the living? Where was the human imagination of the grime reaper being a scary skeletal creature in a ratty robe?

"And you're not afraid?" Tsuzuki managed to ask.

"What for? You seem nice enough." The boy.

"I'm not...so nice." Tsuzuki muttered to himself as he recalled the brutal deaths of the infant and mother. Although it was their time to die, he still felt like a murderer. Then there was all those trouble he caused to others because of his clumsiness.

"You have to be nice, ni-san," the child said reasonably. "I can see compassion and goodness in your pretty purple eyes." The child's hand reach over. He parted his hair gently, looking into his tear-brimmed orbs. "You should show off your eyes more often."

Tsuzuki stared in amazement. That was the first time someone had said something good about his eyes, and the comment somehow made his heart swell in a different way.

"Thank you," Tsuzuki managed to utter before another wave of emotion washed over him and his shoulders shook from a mix of self haterd and happiness. It was wrong to lie to an innocent child like this but it was alleviating to be liked. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that."

The child looked taken back then unexpectedly sighed and muttered, "Sorry."

"What?" Now Tsuzuki was confused.

"I've made you cry." He sighed, a troubled look on his face. "Mama cries when I praise her and tell her that I'll protect her and take care of her forever. Now I'm making even a shinigami cry." His voice was defeated, "I just can't make anyone happy. I must be cursed."

"No. No. No. I'm sure your mama was very happy. I'm..." Tsuzuki sniffed and swallowed, quickly rubbing his puffy eyes dry. He forced a smile even when he still felt a bit blue. He would at least try to dry his tears for the one person who thought his eyes were pretty. "I'm...was just happy that you said something so nice to me. See, I've stopped."

The child just stared at him planatively.

Tsuzuki sniffed to prevent snot from dripping.

"You are a terrible liar." The child accused, frustrated. "People only cry when they're hurt or sad. And that hurt doesn't go away as fast as you act."

"Not always," Tsuzuki tried to explain. Now he was in a true dilemma. How does he explain the contradictry actions of adults to a child who only saw things in black and white? "Some people cry because they're just so happy, because they feel that someone loves them and cherishes them. I was sad before because someone said some mean things to me. But you said a nice thing to me so I feel..cherished." Tsuzuki took a deep breath, swallowing, smiling more genuinely now.

The child stared at him, utterly confused. What was this strange ghost person talking about? People only cry because they scraped their knees or had their candy taken away by a bully. Cry meant something was wrong. Crying was bad. "You big people are so weird," the child declared, shaking his head in resignation.

Tsuzuki smiled wistfully. How wonderful it would be, if he could see things so simply again? "Well. Thank you again. You've made me feel better, happy even." He leaned over and hugged the tyke, grateful for the kind words.

The tyke finally smiled. In all honesty, he was an rather adorable child when he smiled. That smile, however, quickly turned devious. "Since I made you happy, I demand some compensation. I don't do anything for free you know. One must always get even."

The turn in the conversation was a little too quick for Tsuzuki. "Pay back? I don't have any money." That was not exactly true but he did want enough money for sweets.

"I don't mean that." A ball seemed to appear out of nowhere behind the child. "Ni-san, you have to play with me!"

This time, the shinigami laughed and could only agree.

* * *

About an hour later, the child finally exhausted his energy and decided to sat down for a break.

Most children and festival goers had gone home. Noise and laughter had faded, and bustling activities of clean up crew complete. The child's lamp had long burned out and the fireflies had went to sleep. The moon was full, shining down upon the two idlers who finally had enough of catch and soccer.

The child was quiet now. He sat with his back against the moon, watching his well-defined shadow with marked interest. Using the moonlight and his hands, he created shadow puppets, showing a barking dog or a ribbiting frog. Tsuzuki joined in, making crawling crab and flying eagle. The two made stories out of those shadows, escalating the story into a race between the eagle and the dog.

Tsuzuki smiled contently as the shadow stories progressed. Playing with this blue-eyed stranger child had given him the most satisfaction he had in years. He had never felt so alive that even the shadows of him and the child seemed to move on their own. For those blissful moments, Tsuzuki forgot about the nature of his work.

Somewhere in the back of Tsuzuki's mind, he wondered about if the child should've gone home now. It was past midnight and the tyke did seem to be in the care of a loving family, judging by his well nurished apparance and relatively new cloths. Tsuzuki didn't want to ask though. Asking meant sending the tyke away and for some reason, Tsuzuki did not want to leave the presence of this self-assured child who thought his eyes were pretty.

The choice was not up to him, however.

"Seiichirou~ We're going home now. Where are you?" a woman's angelic voice called.

The child's head immediately turned toward the sound, the game with the shinigami immediately forgotten. "Haha-ue! I'm here." The child looked apologetic as he stood up and meet Tsuzuki's eyes. "I have to go home now, ni-san. My mum is here."

"Oh." Tsuzuki uttered, obviously disappointed. But he quickly smiled as to not worry the child. At the very least, he was glad that he learned of the child's name.

The child must've caught Tsuzuki's mood because he immediately assured him. "If you want, I can ask haha-ue if it's alright if I come back next week. If she says yes, and you come, we can play with each other again."

Tsuzuki immediately brighted at that prospect.

They walked up the hill together, holding hands. The child's hand was warm and his grip as strong, leading Tsuzuki along toward the sound of the woman's call.

Once on the hilltop, Tsuzuki stood in awe at the sight of a blue-black haired classical beauty. The woman was taller than most, her flourid kimono woren loose about her shoulders, fluttering in the sea breeze. She seemed quite young, perhaps late-twenties at most, with that transparant unassuming mannerism. Her beautiful form was so radiant and clear in the moonlight that Tsuzuki thought for a moment that he was looking at a goddess. She was calling for her child, projecting her voice in all direction, concern in her voice for her child to come. Then, she saw them, and waved.

At the sight of her eyes, Tsuzuki froze.

A pair of pale violet, a colour of mixed blue and pink, shone in the darkness. It was like Tsuzuki's own eyes, but lighter, almost lavender, and easily mistaken for gray or blue. Her face was somewhat like his, pale, delicate and innocent. Her lips was drawn into a sad smile that could've made anyone's heart ache just by looking.

The child's mother was someone like himself.

The boy let go of Tsuzuki's hand and ran toward his mother. He minded his manners enough to bow properly before hugging her. Mother and child chatted for a bit.

-------------

"Where have you been, Seiichirou?" asked the mother, a hand reaching down to pat his head and smooth his hair. "I was getting worried and thought you forgot to come home."

The boy looked up at his beautiful mother, adoration in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I was talking to that sad person, you know the person who cried over Hitomi's baby, the one that you said the doctors took out too early. But I think I've cheered him up. He even played with me."

"Ah. That child," said the mother knowingly. She had seen him once or twice, but never said a word to him. It was against her clan rules to initate contact with ones of Meifu. However, since children belonged to the family of the husband, her child was not technically violating the laws for the forbidden interaction. "He's...unlike the others, he's retained his humanity despite his blood. The others have lost it before they died."

"Huh? I don't understand."

"Oh, my dearest, sweet Sei. This is one of those things that you'll understand once you grow up." The beautiful woman smiled, though there was sadness in her eyes. She kneeled down and and hugged him, enclosing him fully in the sleeves of her kimono.

Seiichirou's face turned red a little. His mother was very formal usually when out in public, and her obvious expression of love for him was a little unusal. He did hug her back, snaking his young arms around her neck. Mother needed a lot of reassurance since father was constantly away.

"Um...haha-ue," Seiichirou began, "May I come back here again next week?"

"Of course," said the beautiful woman. She rarely denied her child's wishes. "Just tell me before you leave so I do not worry. And be sure not to tell anyone about that friend of yours. Your shadow protects you and your secrets shall remain your secrets. But, at your age, your abilities has its limitations."

Seiichirou nodded obediently, never wanting to worry her. "Yes. Ma'am!"

The mother stood up, holding her child's hand, turning to an awaiting carriage.

Seiichirou, however, turned and waved goodbye to Tsuzuki. "Bye ni-san! If you're around next week, come by and play with me again!'

* * *

Tsuzuki watched the mother and child pace toward a carriage and rode away. Whoever they were, they were fairly well off judging by the mother's lavish kimono and their private coach.

A lot of things went through Tsuzuki's mind. Once the child left him, he felt as if he was lifted out of dream where he was warm and content and back into harsh reality. He had not noticed it until now, that the child had a dark but peaceful aura about him. There was a pattern to that feeling, something he had experienced before. Tsuzuki rubbed his fingers where the child had clutch his hand as his mind sank into a strange nostaliga. Where had he felt that warmth?

Tsuzuki touched his lips in shock as he recalled the day he died four years. That period of brief sanity, the feelings of flower petals on his cheeks. The one attachment he had to the living. That blurry image of a fearless and strange blue-eyed child who comforted him enough to banish his inner demon and allowed him to sleep after eight years of living in his own foggy mental hell.

What was that child's name? Wasn' it...Sei?

Tsuzuki only stared at the retreating carriage, amazed.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Child with Blue Eyes - Part II

Summary: A summary of friendship between a shinigami and a live child. Tsuzuki/Tatsumi.

AN: Writer's block sucks. Ask and you shall receive.

Warning: This is AUish. And only has a courtesy check with a word processor.

* * *

Chief Kuro was a stern man with over fifty years of experience in JuOhCho. A heavy set man with the appropriate girth, graying hair and full beard, milky cataract eyes, he looked to be late forties. The lateness of his first death and the resulting appearance gave him a certain stature within JuOhCho. No matter how long a person had served, there will always be prejudice against the soft, youthful face. Eventually, Kuro became the head of the preeminent Summoning Division after forty some years of service.

Currently, the chief gazed at the two shinigami of the second block, assessing their demeanor before formulating the exact wording for the briefing.

Yamada was a competent shinigami of nearly years of experience as Kuro. Like Kuro himself, Yamada began in another division and gradually learned the skills and magics essential to perform the duties of a Summoning Division employee. Yamada came highly recommended from his previous superiors and was a relatively easy going shinigami. The man could be counted on to follow the books and react with appropriate compassion.

Tsuzuki, on the other hand, was a case in itself. The man had come to Summoning Department as a brand new soul given second flesh. Kuro had never met anyone with such a high spiritual reservoir or close attention of both their Employer and the Lord of the Castle of Candles. Overly caring to the point of obstinacies, Tsuzuki was still very rough around the edges. As a matter of fact, it was close to a miracle that Tsuzuki was even on time for the briefing.

"Your next case is in the town of Samaki," said Kuro as he distributed the single copy of the case file. "There had been a rash of scarlet fever through the area so the Death List had close to two hundred in the span of two weeks. The courts were expecting a rise in the judgment process but we noted that there are about a dozen souls missing." Kuro pulled out the file with the names, some even with rare photographs or hand sketches. The turned the pictures so the presiding shinigami of the second block could see. "These are the lost souls. As usual, your mission is to bring them back."

Tsuzuki noted his first observation with a single glance. "They're mostly children..."

"Children are most susceptible to scarlet fever, but some are particular children with unhappy histories," said Kuro, spreading the additional profiles that were to be shared between the two agents. He pointed to an angelic looking ten-year old. Her profiled filled with finely printed scribbles. "Take Sachi Himiko, for example. Her file says that a fire killed her parents. Afterwards, she went to an orphanage where she became slowly emancipated from depression."

Kuro moved to another photograph. This time it was of a boy with dichromatic eyes and his left shoulder bulged from abnormal bone growth. "This one, Hakuma Yoshi is said to have been found in a sack of animal entrails when he was an infant. He was taken to a monastery to be raised but was driven out by the time he was eight years old."

A third picture was pulled. This child seemed fairly normal. "Yakito Hoto is the youngest and the only surviving child of the Town's most prosperous smiting shop. His family was poisoned when their maid added the wrong mushrooms. He currently begs on the streets of Samaki."

The two second block shinigamis listened mutely as Kuro droned on.

Yamda suppressed an urge to yawn. So far, none of the cases sound interesting. Every one of them was a regular soul with a body that should have expired a long time ago but their determination to live on make them earthbound.

Tsuzuki seemed uncomfortable. A child dying had never been pleasant, no matter who they are. So much of what a child could be, gone by the brief touch of disease. He still glanced at the files attentively, knowing that his performance should improve or else he might get fired. As much as he hated the nature of his work, he could not bear the idea of having nowhere else to go. He fingered the profile summary sheets and the photos, noting the details and trying to commit the specifics to memory. If it was one thing that Tsuzuki was good at, it was to use the intimate knowledge to coax information out of anyone. He had an inherent ability to gain trust of people as long as they do not automatically freak at the sight of his eyes.

At some point, Yamda interrupted Kuro. "Wait, Chief. All of these summoned children seem like the usual tag 'em and bag 'em. Shouldn't you have just left this in our boxes without the extensive briefing?"

Kuro continued without missing a beat. "I was just getting to that, Yamada. Recall that three months ago, you and your partner retrieved Hitomi Onin. In your report, you noted how there seemed to be a disturbance of the daylight. Well, I followed a wild hunch and asked the librarian to track for a certain type of spiritual energy. We've confirmed a trace of it on Tsuzuki days later."

At that comment, Tsuzuki blinked curiously and frowned though both men in the room had not noticed.

The chief went to a locked drawer and pulled a scroll made out of cloth mesh. He untied the red string and spread the scroll, the fibers crinkling.

"I've called you here to brief you of a particular summon."

It was a painting of a young lady gazing at the full moon. The colors had long faded from its original brilliant hues. Still, one could discern that the lady wore heavy colorful layers reminiscent of courtesans of an earlier time. Blue-black hair bounded and pinned with myriads of jeweled ornaments. The face was aristocratic, with pert lips, high cheekbones, pale skin, but the eyes were covered by a blind fold of rich cloth. The inscription on the scroll stated, "Dark Water Princess."

"Ensui-hime!" Yamada hissed.

"You remember her," said Kuro.

"Of course I do!" Yamada said vehemently. "She killed numerous shinigamis, including one of my previous partners!"

"Wait a second," Tsuzuki interrupted. "**Killed** a shinigami? Isn't that impossible?"

Yamada and Kuro looked at each other meaningfully.

"That's right. You've only been here for four years. Of course you don't know," said the chief. "Let me explain. The woman in this painting is Ensui-hime, a descendent of the prominent kuge (1) family, the Minamoto. She was first placed on the death list over three hundred years ago, but we never managed to retrieve her soul despite numerous attempts."

"Three hundred years ago..." Tsuzuki whispered.

A corner of Kuro's lips upturned sardonically. "Doesn't that suggest something unusual was going on? Anyways, According to our records, the very time the summon came for her, she could not be physically located. We found a record of her birth and this painting, but that was the extent of our knowledge of her. We do not even really know what she looks like other than that she was described as the epitome of classical beauty and is likely blind."

Kuro pursed his lips, observing the reaction of his agents.

Yamada looked fairly pissed, but that was expected.

Tsuzuki, on the other hand, looked more thoughtful than usual.

Filing the reactions away in the sea of his mind, Kuro pursed his lips before saying more. "Our regulations at time require some advance in the case by two moon cycles or else the case is archived. Since then, she would periodically appear and we would reopen her case and send shinigami after her. The lucky ones came back empty handed. The unlucky ones, not at all. We became really close to retrieving her soul approximately ten years ago. One of our agents even caught a glimpse of her face, but..." Chief Kuro looked at Yamada meaningfully.

"She killed my old partner," said Yamada flatly. "Almost killed me too if she wasn't distracted by some baby's cry."

"How though?" came the obvious question. "How can a human kill a shinigami?"

"Simple. She can create Black Fire."

Tsuzuki blinked. A frown appeared on his face. "Black Fire?"

"It's an ability of hers that can tear anything apart," said Yamada warily, but his eyes were filled with an obvious disgust and hate. "It's one of the few things in this world that can directly threaten a shinigami. It's similar to the black flames of the accursed shikigami Touda. The fire is a self-sustaining blackness that moves like a flame. It flays the flesh open then shaves the bones, damaging our bodies faster than we can regenerate until there's nothing left but a wet mesh. My old partner died screaming in agony." The man turned to Kuro. "Are you certain that she is in Samaki?"

Kuro nodded his head grimly. "Yes. We had finally narrowed down her spiritual energy to track her there. However, we believe that she is using a demon, a little imp to be exact, to mask her exact presence. The imp appears around her constantly and when it's around, everything else seemed muted. Additionally, when we attempted to scan the imp and study it for information, it disappears as soon as we directed full attention. Once we did that, Ensui-hime disappears also."

"Whatever it is, we'll get through and find her," said Yamada belligerently, smacking a fist into palm. "I'll be looking forward to the reunion,"

The chief raised a hand to calm the pugnacious shinigami. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Yamada, but your assigned case is the capture of the twelve children. You are not to pursue Ensui-hime until those twelve have been returned. Additionally, you are only to **attempt** to retrieve her. As usual, there is a major bonus for returning her soul to Meifu, as well as forty vacation days and a good word with Enma Dai Oh. But you can't receive all that that if she kills you, not to mention the dark mark it'll be leave on our Division."

"Of course, chief. I understand," Yamada promise quickly, but the look on his face said other. "Will we be receiving backups? This is Ensui-hime."

Kuro nodded. "I'll have Konoe from the seventh-block come help you once he returns. In addition, we'll be calling Tsukinori Kira to deal with the demon. Any more questions?"

The two agents were mute.

"Good. Dismissed and be careful."

* * *

Samaki was like any other small rural town with rice paddies and dirt roads crossing like a checker board. The people went about their way in kimonos and yukatas with a few adoptions to shirts and slacks. Oxen driven carts, horses and bicycles were the modes of transportation. All in all, the walk down the main street felt like going back in time.

At the end of the town was the train station that connected Samaki to the outside world. The locomotive had bought a certain amount of modernization, with a handful of foreigners and westernized native that strolled the streets. Some were locals who had gone away for schooling before returning. Some were complete strangers with flaxen hair and pale eyes. Both were looked upon with a certain amount of wariness and sometimes, downright suspicion. The recent wave of scarlet fever only added to the suspicion as the locals attempted to look for someone to blame.

The two shinigamis, went strolling down the main street of Samaki, taking in the sights and smells of the place. The best way to complete simple soul retrievals was to familiarize themselves with the local atmosphere and customs. What they saw was no cheer.

Though it was midday, people passed them on their own business. Expression on the fathers and mothers were grim, and children were kept close. There was a funeral procession and the desperate wail of the parents who had just lost her child. People looked upon them sympathically all the while thanking kami for keeping their own families safe.

"What a depressing place," Yamada commented, alert. "I can see why Ensui like this place of death."

Tsuzuki said nothing. Since the briefing of Ensui-hime, he seemed distant. During the flight to Samaki, Yamada had caught emotions of confusion and disbelief on the young man's face. Yamada supposed that any rookie would be disconcerted to know that there was something that can kill a shinigami.

At any rate, Yamada pushed off that thought as they spotted a ghostly presence tagging alongside the two weeping couple. It was one of their summoned souls and they immediately went to work.

By the end of their first day, they've tagged six souls and had them sent along to Meifu. Most of the children were kindhearted souls wanting to linger longer to make sure that their loved ones do not lose themselves to grief. Those cases where easy as only the soul remained without a corporeal body. Now they had to face the more difficult ones. The ones who still remain firmly attached to their dying bodies. Those types of cases usually had two outcomes: the soul either came willingly or the shinigamis killed them.

For now, the two shinigamis went to the local tavern for some food, organization and gossip.

The two sat in a semi-screen booth, looking as normal as any working men after a long day of tiring work. The normal drunken rowdiness expected after work seemed deliberately muted in reaction to the recent illnesses.

Yamada ordered some rice bowls and extra side dishes then told Tsuzuki to do the same. The mission had gone well so far. Tsuzuki's ability to connect with people had helped out with all the children today. There was no vengeful spirit to quall, no need to use fuda, no blood to shed. Tsuzuki was able to convince the spirits to move on with only gentle coaxing words. In a way, it made sense, considering that Tsuzuki carried a naive but sincere charm about him, almost like a child in an adult's body.

"You did well today," said Yamada tersely.

Tsuzuki gazed back with a faint accepting smile but said nothing. Since their philosophical disagreement months ago, Tsuzuki was taking his time to warm to Yamada, which was say that he stopped filling the air with idle chatter.

Right now, Yamada wanted his normally chatter box partner to say something. Knowing that Ensui-hime was in this town had his nerves wound tight despite the fact that he had yet to see a trace of her. More than ever, he wanted Tsuzuki's annoyingly distracting babble.

"Do you know who Tsukinori is?" asked Tsuzuki, breaking Yamada's tension. It was a question he had since the briefing and work was always a safe topic.

Yamada shook his head. "Not really. Tsukinori is a contracted agent in a division by herself. Like us, she gets orders directly from Enma Dai Oh, but unlike us, she only works on demon case. It's usually pretty serious when she's involved."

At the mention of 'demon,' Tsuzuki automatically looked down slightly as if to hide his eyes. "Was she involved before? With this Ensui-hime?"

Yamada shook his head. "No. As far as records goes, Ensui is considered human so eventually her case comes to us. But this time, with her long history and demon in tow, it's probably just enough to get back up."

Just was Yamada finished his sentence, a familiar face aged face of fifty some years along with a young man in a traditional nondescript yukata came by their table.

"Konoe!" greeted Yamada, waving the shinigami in. "Just in time. I've already ordered some food for you already, if you don't mind."

"Why, thank you, Yamada," said the older gentleman then looked to the younger shinigami. "Tsuzuki."

"Hi," acknowledge Tsuzuki absently as he stared more at the young man next to Konoe.

And the young man stared back; his gaze was penetrating, and spoke of a question and particular wonder.

Conscious of their mutual gaze, Konoe suddenly remembered that he had yet to introduce his companion.

"Oh. Yamada, Tsuzuki. This is Tsukinori Kira. She a demon **huntress**."

The three strangers gave each other courteous greetings.

"Please to meet you," said Tsukinori. "I'll be giving advice and dealing with demons should the occasion arise."

"We're talking about Ensui-hime," said Yamada dryly. "I think you'll find your hands full."

Tsukinori narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Instead, she kept on looking at Tsuzuki as if he was some type of intensely interesting creature, her eyes never leaving the young man for the remainder of the evening.

The rest of their dinner was uneventful, filled with shop talk and strategizing. The focus of their trip to Samaki was still the retrieval of the missing souls. Having an extra body should make the process go quicker and they may even be able to find Ensui-hime.

Tsuzuki attempted to focus on the conversation, but as usual, his mind wandered all over the place. Who exactly was this Ensui-hime? Why was Tsukinori staring at him as if he was piece of delicious piece of steak? Why was he having a bad feeling when the case had gone so well so far?

"I believe that's a wrap," concluded Yamada. Out of all of them, he was senior. "We only have these six remaining children. They are. Himiko, Yoshi, Hoto, Mina, Jiro and Sei."

* * *

It was the middle of the night.

Tsuzuki could not sleep.

Ever since Yamada read down that list of remaining souls, terrible images assaulted his mind. He could certainly appreciate the reason that shinigami were usually told of summoning regarding their family, but were never assigned. Tsuzuki knew he was probably even panicking for no good reason too since Seichirou was a very common name and the chances of that the same strange child Tsuzuki befriended months was in this very town was very low.

But that did not stop him from worrying and seeing worse case scenarios, each of them filled with blood and screams that were all too familiar.

Tsuzuki rolled over and sat up. He was not going to get any sleep tonight unless he either clear his head or collapse from exhaustion.

"Where are you going?" Konoe muttered, only awake enough to notice that someone was leaving the room.

"To get some fresh air," Tsuzuki whispered just loud enough for Konoe to hear. "Go back to sleep." He grabbed a coat and quietly put it on so not to disturb the quietly snoring Yamada. The three men were roomed together, but the lady got her own room.

It was a full moon night outside. The air was slightly chilly from the sudden change in weather. The song of the crickets filled the night. The moonlight was so strong and clear that it was possible to discern things from far away. Outside of the small inn, Tsuzuki ambled out, picked a random direction, and walked.

It did not take Tsuzuki long to reach the center of the town. Out here, only a couple of torches and moon light illuminated the streets. The night patrol prowled the streets, looking wary.

"What are you doing here?" a female voice hissed.

Tsuzuki almost did a double take as he turned to the voice.

There, standing in the shadow of a building was his little friend's mother. She was garbed in a plain beige kimono, her black hair loose about her shoulders, hanging down past her waist. Her eyes were exhausted luminous violet. As disheveled as she was, she was still one of the most beautiful women Tsuzuki had ever seen.

"I..." Tsuzuki was at a loss. He had never been formally introduced to her, figuring that Seiichirou would like to keep his "ghost friend" as a minor detail. It never occurred to Tsuzuki that she could see him too.

Without warning, she reached out and pulled the man into the shadows.

Tsuzuki instantly felt a sizzling of the flesh at her grip. When she had let go and Tsuzuki looked up, Tsuzuki realized that he was in complete darkness. There was no street, no torch light, no night patrol, only claustrophobic darkness and this woman.

"Are you mad? Or has your superior lost his wits?" she whispered angrily. "Your kind usually killed with visual range of my kind!"

It took Tsuzuki several moments to respond. "Wait. Killed? Do you even know what I am?" He was confused, but decided those questions are more pressing.

"You are many things, least of all, a shinigami," said the woman mysteriously. Then she swayed a little and placed a hand at her temples. She would have fallen, if Tsuzuki had not caught her.

"Hey, are you alright?" Tsuzuki asked, concerned.

It was moments before the woman responded. "No. I am not alright," she said warily as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "My son is sick with scarlet fever. I'm just tired from watching him," Then in a much smaller voice, she murmured, "Why do you have to be away now, Geni? We need you here."

Tsuzuki's heart suddenly pounded. "Sei is sick?"

The mother nodded listlessly. "It started a week ago, when he requested to come home from school during the middle of the day. Since then, he had a fever, lost his appetite and sleeps almost all the time." She looked at him again. "So, I ask you again. What are you doing here?"

"You haven't answered my question yet," said Tsuzuki. "What do you mean by "killed?'"

"Have you ever wondered why there are never shinigamis older than fifty years old, while it is an accepted truth that shinigamis are granted immortal bodies? Even the regular excuse, 'they wish to pass on,' cannot explain it all, can it?" asked the woman mysteriously, an underlying threat in her voice. "Now this is my third and final time asking you this question. Why are you here? And don't look so surprised. I did not allow my son to befriend you if I did not know what you are."

Even though regulations that frowned upon notifying the living of expected deaths, Tsuzuki pulled out short list of names and showed it the woman. "Just my regular job, summoning. These souls have long expired and they are called to court."

The woman glanced at it. Despite the name "Sei" was on the list, she did not flinch.

"There's more. We had brought a demon exorcist with us," Tsuzuki continued.

"I see." was her noncommittal reply.

"I'm worried," Tsuzuki admitted, looking down, ashamed. Part of him wondered why he was confessing this to an utter stranger. The other part of him was curious of her reaction. "That the very last person is..." He did not want to say. Prior to leaving for this assignment, Tsuzuki berated himself for being so emotionally attached to the living. Many children die before their first birthdays, some came out stillborn. Why was he not as anguished over those poor souls? Why was he so concerned over one child who happened to see him one day?

The woman tipped Tsuzuki's chin up. "Do not worry. Seiichirou was born overseas. I do not believe that he is registered here. At least, that is my hope."

Hearing that new piece of information, Tsuzuki was somewhat relieved but was left with even more questions. Born overseas? Seiichirou had never mentioned that little piece of information. But what was a ten year old supposed to know? "That's good to hear. May I come see him?"

The woman seemed to consider it then shook her head. "No. Seiichirou's...abilities...are wild and out of control now. For your safety, you best not come near him."

"My safety?" Tsuzuki scoffed a little. "What threat can a normal child pose to me?"

"Is he?" the woman asked in return, her gaze penetrating. "You should have figured out by now that Seiichirou isn't normal, no matter how much he acts like one."

Tsuzuki withered under her penetrating gaze.

Then, losing interest in the conversation, the woman hugged herself as if to gather strength. When she stood up straight again, the darkness that was surrounding the both of them seemed to shrink away like a tattered cloak being sucked into a vacuum and back into the very moonlit shadows of the building they are now standing in. "I must go now. But heed my warning. If any of your cohorts come near me and my child with ill intent, I will not hesitate to defend myself."

The woman paced on, her getta clacking softly against the beaten ground, hair falling into her face.

"Wait. Before you go, can you at least tell me your name?" Tsuzuki asked.

The beautiful woman with similar violet eyes turned and said. "You may call me Ensui."

* * *

(1) Kuge - noble family from the Edo era. Not really used now


End file.
